


If it Pleases Your Grace

by Blue_Pandas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bondage, CMNM, Don't copy to another site, Dubious Consent, Gags, High Fantasy, Impact Play, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, chemical play, cliffhanger ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 18:39:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19796740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Pandas/pseuds/Blue_Pandas
Summary: There is a bound and gagged man lying on Tom's bed. Who put him there?(Spoiler: It was Harry. Harry put himself there.)





	If it Pleases Your Grace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [exarite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exarite/gifts).



> For exarite, who wanted Harry calling Tom "my lord." I tried...

Harry stared at the noble, his green eyes wide. He struggled to swallow, but the ball in his mouth prevented him from doing so. Tom Marvolo Riddle, the newest Duke of Gaunt, looked over Harry’s naked body leisurely, but the tent in his trousers said Harry had definitely gotten his attention. 

“Such a pretty present,” he purred. “What shall I do with you?”

Harry squirmed under his gaze, his hand automatically trying to cover himself, but the ropes held tight, keeping his arms at the headboard. This was no time to be shy. He held his breath and waited for the man to do something. 

Tom didn’t disappoint. He ran a finger down the length of Harry’s cock, smearing the drop of precome over the head. A muffled moan escaped Harry’s mouth and he tried to buck into the touch. 

“Down,” Tom ordered, pushing Harry’s hips back down. “You’re here for my pleasure, not yours.” 

_Arsehole._ It was a good thing he was gagged or Harry would have broken his cover right there and then. 

Tom hummed and ran a hand down Harry’s body. “Very nice. I’ll have to thank the courtesan houses for sending a good one. What’s your name, darling?” 

Harry bit back the urge to roll his eyes. How was he supposed to answer the insufferable man with a gag in his mouth? 

Tom traced the line of spit that had escaped his mouth, smearing it over Harry’s face. He gently, more gently than Harry would have expected, worked the gag free and pressed a cup to Harry’s lips.

Harry strained his neck to sip the liquid and avoid choking. The sweet taste of mango nectar flooded his mouth and he swallowed in bliss. “My mistress calls me Harry, my lord.”

“Your grace,” Tom corrected. 

What? 

“You call a duke your grace, not my lord. Though I suppose it’s a bit much to expect a silly country boy to know that.” 

_Country boy?_ Oh, Harry was going to look forward to this. “Apologies, your grace,” Harry forced out, barely able to keep the derision from his voice. 

“Good pet,” Tom murmured and then his lips were pressing against Harry’s. 

Harry was too shocked to do anything, but it didn’t matter as Tom took control and pressed Harry deeper into the sheets. His lips trailed down to Harry’s neck, nibbling lightly before sucking hard, surely leaving a bruise behind. Harry found himself arching his neck to give Tom better access as his eyes drifted shut. A low chuckle filled the air as Tom pulled back and drifted lower. 

A wet heat engulfed his cock, and Harry let out a strangled shout. His hips bucked, his mind torn between begging for more and escaping the sinful pleasure. Tom Marvolo Riddle did not suck cock.

Except he did, and he was alarmingly good at it. 

Right as Harry thought he was going to come, Tom pulled back. “That was fun, wasn’t it? Have you ever been edged before? I’m sure you have; they train courtesans to never come without permission. How many times do you think I could bring you to the edge of orgasm before you beg me to let you come? Five? Ten? My hand on your cock until sunrise? Let’s try it.”

It took Harry’s pleasure-hazed brain a second to recover and comprehend Tom’s words. “If it pleases your grace,” Harry choked out, not even trying to hide his distaste at the thought of not being able to come for hours. If he were pretending to be a courtesan, shouldn’t he at least get some pleasure out of it?

“Darling, that was absolutely unacceptable. I’d have thought your House would have trained you to be a better liar.” 

Now the arsehole was calling his courtesan skills into question? Really? Harry felt ridiculously outraged for someone who wasn’t even an actual courtesan. “I’m sorry, your grace,” Harry murmured, lowering his eyes in an attempt to drudge out some of the seduction techniques drilled into him. 

“Don’t be sorry. Be better. In fact, I have some suggestions on ways you can improve. Let’s get started, shall we?” The predatory smile on Tom’s face should not have made Harry harder. 

“Yes, your grace,” Harry whispered. 

“I’m going to tell you everything I want to do to you. You will say, ‘If it pleases your grace’ to every single one. Every response that does not sound sincere will add another item to your punishment. Trust me, darling, you don’t want that list to get too long.”

Oh gods above and beyond, he was going to die here. 

“First, I’m going to put this wooden plug in your arse. You will fuck yourself with it while I watch.” 

Harry choked on air, images of him doing just so flashing across his mind. “If it pleases your grace,” he said, his voice strangely breathy. 

“That’s a good pet. See, darling? You can learn.” The condescending prat smirked. “You will not come without permission. If you do, you’ll be fucking yourself with that plug until you black out and then you’ll restart when you wake up. You’ll beg me to stop, but I won’t let you. Second, I will paddle your arse until it turns a pretty pink.” 

“With the plug in?” Harry blurted out.

Tom arched an eyebrow. “That’s one.” 

Harry gritted his teeth. “If it pleases your grace,” he said.

“That’s two.” 

Tom Bloody Riddle could take his sincerity and shove it up his own arse. 

The man kept going on and on with his list, and Harry’s eyes grew wider and wider. How much time did he think he purchased Harry for? How much stamina did he have? How much stamina did he think Harry had?

Maybe the duke was half god. That could be the only possible explanation. 

By the time Tom had finished talking, Harry was up to eight on the punishment list, his cheeks were burning from embarrassment, and his cock was making a mess on his stomach. Clearly, a certain part of him was into this. 

“Shall we begin?” 

“If it pleases your grace.” 

Tom freed Harry’s hands from the headboard, presumably to turn him over. It was the opportunity he needed, and Harry should have taken it, but then Tom inserted a finger into his arse. The sudden stretch was so good, and Harry could only bury his face into the pillow and muffle his moan. 

Lightning sparks of pleasure shot through him as Tom brushed against his prostate, making it hard to concentrate. Harry tried to focus his mind and move his hand to the small space between the bed and the headboard. 

His fingers brushed against the cot, then the wall. There was nothing there. 

“How very predictable,” Tom murmured. “Looking for this?” 

Harry turned his head and strained to see what Tom was holding. He spun a thin dagger in one hand, his other still buried inside Harry. “W-what?” he stammered. “My lord, please don’t hurt me.” 

“Your grace,” Tom corrected again. “Really, you’d think after all that just happened, you’d at least try to remember the correct way to address me. And, darling, you really should have gotten some acting lessons before you came here. What did I do? Kill your parents? Kick your puppy?” He thrust his fingers inside Harry, drawing out a moan. “Do tell me.” 

“I don’t know what you mean, your grace,” Harry lied. “Please, I’m just a”—he remembered what Tom had called him—“country boy. I’m sorry. I did not mean to offend. Please, don’t hurt me. Please.” He made his lips wobble, but he could not force tears to come to his eyes. Harry had never been one of those to cry on command. 

Tom studied him for a moment and withdrew his fingers. He set the blade on the table, close enough for Harry to reach it. “In that case, I believe we had some plans.” He handed Harry a wooden phallus. 

Harry stared at it. Did he really expect Harry to just jump right back to sex after waving a dagger in his face. Harry dragged his eyes to Tom’s face, only to see an expectant look. Yes, yes he did. Harry swallowed. How far was he willing to go? 

All the way it seemed. 

His fingers grasped the phallus, fingers stiff and uncoordinated it. He moved it behind him, touched his rim with the warm wood. He couldn’t believe his first time was going to be with a piece of wood while his target stared into his eyes.

“Wait.” 

“Your grace?” Harry asked hesitantly. 

Tom threw something at Harry. Automatically, Harry caught it with his hand. He dropped it instantly, knowing he had made a mistake; his reflexes were fast, must faster than that of an average courtesan. A bottle with a gold-- _really, how extravagant do you have to be?_ \--lid dropped to the bed. “Oil. You don’t have permission to hurt yourself.” 

Harry bit back the urge to throw it in his face. Gods, the arrogance in this man. 

“Well? I’m waiting.” 

He unscrewed the lid and dumped oil all over his phallus, smearing it with his hands. His fingers brushed along ridges and bumps, and his breath caught in his throat at the thought of putting this into himself. He would have backed out right there and then, but the cold satisfaction in Tom’s eyes urged him forward. Harry had always been one for defying expectations. 

The oil made the entrance easier, and Harry didn’t want to know what would have happened if Tom hadn’t stopped him. Tom’s fingers were long but thin and hadn’t opened him up much, and the stretch sent excruciating pleasure singing through his nerves. Harry could feel the wood brush the walls of his hole, almost too big for him to stand. And then his eyes fell to the tent in Tom’s trousers. 

By the gods, Tom was bigger than this piece of wood. 

Tom laughed at the direction of Harry’s gaze. “Don’t worry, darling, you’ll get the real thing. Eventually.” 

Harry let out an involuntary breathy moan. He wanted it. Damn him to hell, but he wanted Tom to fuck him until the arsehole couldn’t talk anymore. He wanted Tom to become as consumed with Harry as Harry had been consumed with him the weeks he had spent studying the noble’s movements and preferences. 

The phallus fully entered him, and Harry released it, his wrist aching from the odd angle. 

“Turn around,” Tom ordered. “Let me see you.” 

Harry flopped onto his stomach, his legs spreading automatically for Tom’s pleasure. Harry buried his face in the sheets and waited. 

Cold hands touched his arse. “I find that I can’t resist,” Tom murmured. Harry felt the toy move slowly out of him, dragging out inch by inch until it was almost fully out. Then Tom slammed it right back in. The powerful thrust hit Harry’s prostate directly, and he let out an uncontrolled shout and he bucked into the cot. 

Tom thrust the toy a few more times until Harry could feel himself growing closer to orgasm. Suddenly the phallus disappeared altogether. “I think it’s time for the first part of your punishment.”

Harry froze. How could he have forgotten so quickly? He turned his head and tried to peek at what Tom was doing, but he couldn’t see. Tom pressed Harry’s neck gently, urging him back down. His hands were slick with oil. 

Tom slid the phallus into Harry’s hole once more, going slowly until it was seated inside Harry, unmoving. It was a different one this time, thicker and longer. Was this it? 

Just as Harry was about to relax, he felt a tingling sensation in his arse, one rapidly becoming a feeling of unbearable heat with a contradictory coolness that did _not_ make it feel better. “Your grace, something is wrong,” he gasped and squirmed, trying to dislodge the phallus. 

“Everything is fine. You know the medicinal properties of mint? There are some more exotic things it can do too. This cuts you down to seven.” Then, his palm came down sharply on Harry’s arse. 

Harry shouted, from pain this time, and instinctively clenched down. The burning _inside_ his arse magnified. 

“I forgot to warn you,” Tom said, the glee clear in his voice, “you’ll want to avoid clenching when using mint oil. It makes things more interesting.” 

Tom’s hand rained blows down on his arse until the burning on the surface of his skin matched the burning inside. Finally, his hand rubbed soothing circles. “Now you’re at six. Do you remember the next part of the plan?” 

“Y-you said you’d paddle me, your grace.” Harry hated the tremble in his voice. 

“You’ll like it, darling.” He flipped Harry’s body, revealing an easy strength not commonly seen in nobles. Tom grasped Harry’s cock with his fingers, stroking Harry lightly. “Look at you. You’re still hard. There’s a bit of a masochist in you.” 

Harry shut his eyes, unwilling to acknowledge that Tom was right. Because yes, a part of him had liked it, mint and all. 

He waited for Tom to turn him over and begin the excruciating, wonderful torture again. 

Nothing happened. 

Harry peeked at Tom and saw the noble lying indolently on the bed, content with alternating between petting Harry’s cock lightly and stroking his body with the occasional pinch to his nipples. “Your grace?” he asked hesitantly. 

“Patience. I know you’re eager but you’ll get what I choose to give you and nothing else.” Tom hummed and shuffled them a little, positioning Harry within arms-reach of the dagger.

Was this a test? 

Suddenly, the door to the bedroom burst open. Four people—Serpents, Harry recognized, based on the snake insignia—charged into the room, coming to a stop at the sight of sex and a witness. 

Had the employer hired two different assassination groups? Harry had told them he worked alone, gods curse it! 

Tom arched an eyebrow at Harry. “Well? I didn’t pay for an assassin to be here just to lie in my bed and do nothing.” 

He expected Harry to kill for him? Wait, he had hired him? Harry glared at Tom. “We’ll be having a conversation later, your grace.” And he reached for the dagger.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](https://bluepandawrites.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
